


Sleep is good, Death is better

by noisystar



Category: BioShock
Genre: Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Implied Relationships, M/M, love and death, wondering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 01:46:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2529473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noisystar/pseuds/noisystar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flash fiction, practice with symbolism and verse and stuff. Jack. Also Atlas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleep is good, Death is better

Jack had not returned to the sea, where madness grew cold in death's waiting darkness. He was unchained of the madness that made many bodies mangled by his fool's hands. A long caress in a tub reclaimed the misused blood from his skin to the sea, and after that moment he had traded his brutality for placidity. His days became many tiny hands wrapped onto his fingers and tinier lips on his face, and his heart was made happily sore of girls' giggles and songs; he moved with necessity through life, raising marred children to a future filled with light.

Now he looked at the sea that glowed red by day and waved as his youngest daughter sailed, free. Light grew heavy and made him tired.

At night, a nightingale's song kept him from his dreams and he invited the night to stay; in the dark, he imagined he saw him, the mad man, lying in a pool, fresh and austere. The wounds gouged into his still body with the ends of cruel needles were white poppies, blackened by a lowered torch.

Jack reflected; the chains had been rashly raked from his wrists, and day rammed upon him, while madness yet waited in the darkness. Sleep was almost as dark, and Jack looked upon the man who was serious and dead, waiting. If Frank Fontaine had been madness--and surely Jack was sense--why did he long for the same darkness and the sea?

 

In his ear, the nightingale sang of love, sleepless and with the patience of eternity. Life became heavy chains of blinding light.

Jack thought of Atlas--wondered if on his lips Death's kiss would still be wet--neither would be waiting anymore.


End file.
